An Open Letter To The Gentleman Who Almost Killed Me

You don’t know me yet, and Vishnu willing, we’ll never meet face to face, but I’m the guy you nearly ran over with your car today.

I’ve had many close calls in this bipedal life – having lived in NYC for 5 + years, dodging taxis, dog poop, human poop, bikers, juking angry people, and, well…more taxis, and I’d like to think those 5 years were training for our special moment.

I realize it’s difficult to see a 6’2″ + guy with a bright blue coat walking across the street. Hell, sometimes I’m not sure I really exist, but let’s not get all existential here.

What’s that? I’m sorry, I’ll use smaller words next time.

I do suspect you understand symbols….like the white pixelated stickfigure on the box…that means ‘walk’, and conversely, the red hand means ‘don’t walk’?

No?

You don’t understand that either.

Makes sense as you came whizzing around the corner at 35 mph, not even tapping the brakes as I did my best ‘Mary Lou Retton with a computer bag’ impression to avoid your car.

Bag by Manhattan Portage. Onesy by ‘lil ‘mericans.

Speaking of your car – I’ve always imagined (“always” being “since our run in”), if i did get hit by a vehicle, I’d have my legs taken out from under me by something sexy, like a red Ferrari f430 Spider driven by a half-naked Brazilian girl.

License and registration, please.

But damn you, reality!

Just my luck I’m almost struck down by an early 90’s, shoddily customized, glittery black, neon green accented Honda Civic. Thank L. Ron for the racing pipe off the back, for if I hadn’t heard the distinct sound of someone continuously blowing into a Moose’s ass with a Vuvuzela, I wouldn’t have looked up in time to dodge.

It’s weird how much one remembers the moment right before death. You, driving with one hand, laughing whilst talking on the phone – cheap misshapen aviators, a popped white polo. I’m guessing you were calling Taco Bell to tell them you’d be late for third shift tonight as you got caught up in that hand job from your Aunt Lilly.

Am I wrong in remembering your skin had that oompah-loompah orange tone?

That natural, early-December-in-Ohio hue every Columbusian native has..perhaps it was just the sun reflecting off your car’s massive spoiler – definitely want to keep that thing from taking off.

And that gelled hair; it’s like you’re putting all your effort into looking like Pauly D from Jersey Shore, and yet, perfectly channeling late Liberace.

He’s smiling because he has no clue what’s going on.

Hide the boys! Uncle Lib’s here!

It pains me this letter has to come to such an abrupt end – certainly not as painful as the end I would have had had you hit me with your ridiculous car. I don’t even know if that last sentence is grammatically correct, but I don’t give a shit, I have a new calling in life – Writer of Open Letters To Inconsiderate Twats, or ‘WOOLTIT’.

The WOOLTIT! Hahaha! I got hit while riding my bike once back in Madison. The driver stopped and was so upset that I felt sorry for her!🙂
I think “almost” is the key word. Good thing your story includes it or you may not be here to rant. 🙂

You’re too funny! Reading this is the perfect way to start the day, thank you!
Some douche hit my car a couple weeks ago (while I was driving) and then took off. I chased him for 12 blocks but 911 told me to stop the chase. Probably a good thing. I wrote a post about the incident and it made me feel a little better. I have the guys license # on a sticky note on my dashboard…he’ll be back…

These things have happened to me as well, but your open letter is much more clever and polite than mine would have been. I’m in NY too—if this should ever happen to you again, holler and I’ll hold the guy down while you beat him senseless.

I call them “saggy” when I shave. The door was so damn high on the range rover, and I saw it coming so I didn’t do a flip over it or anything. I dragged the tops of my feet on the ground and ripped open my shoe, but that was about it. The guy was super apologetic and gave me $20 (?) to make me feel better.

I did, but they turned it down BUT the response they gave me was really nice and he even gave me advice on how to fix some things so it was worth it. Mine was not as good as yours🙂..McSweeny’s is one of my Fav places on the web
Good Luck!!

Dear Mike, as a courier, walker and cyclist in a fairly crowded city I too would like to become a wooltit…I have more than enough fodder to exhaust WordPress’ bandwidth. I also have the perfect name…I’ll let you know when I launch it. Glad the bastard didn’t win.

This one may have been my fault. I was trying to lift the spirits of a co-worker. Nothing seemed to work until I decided that he needed a near-death experience. Unfortunately I didn’t miss him the other night in the dark parking lot and mangled his legs something awful. He’s not gonna make it, so we hastily arranged a Make-A-Wish situation for him. Since my side mirror popped him in the mouth, his speech is very slurred. All we could make out were words that sounded like candalabra, Anthony Michael Hall and HJ chalupas.
I fear that our Make-A-Wish candidate, in his haste to get to the hospital, might have driven too fast, without caution and accidently near missed hitting you

Oh, and I got a job in Columbus for a few days. Thats where my story takes place, so that this makes sense.

this happened to me just this past Friday. I tried to muster up a good “Ayy I’m walking here!”, but with my puffy coat and Peruvian tassel hat, I just wasn’t feeling like a Midnight Cowboy. The kicker in my story: The idiot had personalized plates and works in the same building as me. Not going to be too hard to locate them with security guard.

I am fine, I merely stopped out of disbelief and allowed said d-bag to whiz past, ruffling said puffy coat (the Peruvian tassel hat was, thankfully, unaffected) while possibly making obscene gestures at their vehicle.
Vengeance shall be mine tomorrow, but maybe not Paul Kersey in Death Wish style.